One Wrong Move
by AzoNintendo
Summary: Fry wishes he was dead after a horrible date, and runs into the Robot Devil, who shows him what it would be like if that where so. Sound familiar at all? Rated Teen for swearing and minor adult themes. Shouldn't be worse than an episode of Futurama.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, ya'll. Just taking a little break from my major stories and writing... Are you ready?.. A Futurama fic! -Cue theme- It'll be a little bit like the show, I hope, if a little more romantic, but hopefully you'll like it. I'll put a spoiler warning for "The Devil's Hands are Idle Playthings" and the two movies just in case. And it's my first Futurama fanfic, so please be easy on me!**

**It takes place after "The Devil's Hands are Idle Playthings" and is loosely parodying a certain Charles Dickens book, FYI. Get ready for bitter sweetness!! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Futurama, and if I did, I wouldn't be writing this _fan_fiction. Is that so hard to understand?**

Title Shows. Subline: Grotesque Lobster Mutations R Us

Setting: mHop, Fry is finishing his now mediocre Holophoner opera, with Leela the only audience member. Fry finishes playing and walks over to Leela.

"That was wonderful," Leela commented.

Fry smiled. He loved every second that Leela was on good terms with him. Now that his nerve was up, he should probably ask. "So, Leela, I was kind of wondering. Do you want to go get dinner? Y'know, together?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice," Leela agreed.

OK, listen up people. You don't even want to know firsthand what happened next, so I'll just have Fry explain it to Bender. Enjoy...

Fry returned to his shared apartment with a black eye and a tired expression. Bender took one look at him and remarked, "Wow, what crawled up your ass and died?"

"Nothing, it was just my date," Fry explained. He flopped onto the couch. "First, all the nice resteraunts where full, apparantly all the people who came to the opera went out to eat after. Then we had to go to some crappy fast food resteraunt. I brought the condiments to our table, but spilled the tray all over her dress. Then they ran out of food."

Bender laughed, but soon stopped under Fry's annoyed glare. "Sorry," he apologized. "Did ya get a kiss goodnight?"

"More like a punch to the face," Fry corrected. "Geeze, even when I actually _get_ a date, I always manage to screw it up. What the Hell's wrong with me?"

"If ya ask me, it's because you have way too many emotions. Just aquire the one I use. It's called the Bender," Bender explained.

"Nah, I don't feel like being a robot," Fry disagreed.

"I have an idea! Why don't you go out and drink yourself happy?" Bender suggested. "It's what I always do when a Fembot decides she's too good for me, Bender," Bender suggested.

"Sure, that sounds like fun," Fry replied, starting to get up.

"Have a nice time," Bender responded, resting his footcups on the coffee table and turning the TV to "All My Circuits."

"...Y'know what, I am going out," Fry informed. "Seeya later."

"If you come back at three in the morning and you're as drunk as Hermes at Christmas, I'm not opening the door," Bender called after him.

"OK," Fry agreed.

**Okay, that was short. But I was just starting it. I might finish it later today, but don't count on it. I'm going school shopping and to a barbecue today, so I don't have lots of time for the computer today. Tomorrow definately, though. So, yeah. :)**

**Review, please. I'm nervous... My regular reviewers probably won't review this, depending if they watch Futurama or not... /**

**AzoNintendo **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, to answer your question, he doesn't call Fry Bender. He's just gesturing to himself. Y'know, "Me, Bender." I figured he likes to do that. Sorry if that was confusing. **

**Well, I'm continuing the story, not much else to say. I love twisting other people's ideas using this website. It's quite enjoyable. Hope you enjoy reading it, also. **

**Here're some quotes that go along with the story.**

"The man who, in a fit of melancholy, kills himself today, would have wished to live if he had waited a week." -Voltaire

"Nothing is more depressing than the conviction that one is not a hero." -George Moore

Fry walked through the streets of New New York, reviewing again the past events of the evening. He could still hear Leela's last words of the night to him, after punching him in the face, of course.

"Fry, I'm sorry, but I didn't go on that date because I feel the same way about you. I did it to say thanks. That's _all._ I would appreciate it if you would stop trying." _Doorslam._

"Phil, you idiot. You could have tied your shoe before carrying an open bottle of ketchup to the table. Maybe you could have thought about taking her somewhere else besides a grease trap, to begin with," Fry said quietly to himself. "Maybe you shouldn't have asked her out at all."

"Are you talking to yourself?" a passerby asked.

"Well, I wasn't talking to you, obviously, so butt out," he snapped.

"Moron," they muttered, walking off.

"Everyone I know either hates me or thinks I'm an idiot," Fry thought, keeping his words in his head this time. "I wish there was a suicide booth around here. It's sure do everyone a favor."

"Are you sure?"

"AAAGH!! Who said that?!" Fry screamed. Silence. "Oh, it was probably just a land squid."

"I beg to differ," the Robot Devil replied, appearing right in front of his face. Fry screamed.

"What are you doing here?! Are you gonna kill me?!"

"No, I came here to plant flowers and frolic," he retorted. "Of course I'm here to kill you! Very slowly and painfully."

"Eep!" Fry screamed. "P-please don't, Mr. Robot Devil, sir! Um... I'll give you 5 bucks!" He took out his wallet and opened it, finding 5 cents and some ABC gum. "Uh, the gum was worth a lot more..."

"Calm down, I was gonna do something else first," he replied. "Now, why do you want to die?"

"Why should I tell you? And besides, Robot Hell is for robots!" Fry yelled.

"Yes, well, I could easily escort you to Human Hell," Robot Devil informed, not that interested. "Anyhow, tonight you will be visited by three ghosts, the ghosts of Past, Present, and Future-"

"Hold on, this seems kind of vaguely familiar," Fry interrupted.

"Shut up, some people haven't heard the story," he hissed. "Anyway, blah blah blah, goodbye."

"Wait! How do I-?!" But he had already disappeared. "Well, that was weird. Wow, I'm tired. Better go back to bed."

--

Robot Arms Apartments...

"Hey, skin tube, I thought I told you not to come back," Bender confronted him at the door.

"No, you said not to come back if I was drunk," Fry corrected.

"Whatever," he replied, slamming the door. A faint locking noise was heard.

"Bender!" Fry yelled, pounding on the door."Let me in!"

"No!"

"You bastard!"

After a few more minutes, he finally gave up. "Well, looks like I'm camping in the hallway."

It wasn't really camping. More like curling up into a ball on the floor. As he waited for sleep to come, a whooshing noise filled his ears. At first, he didn't think much of it. But as it got louder and louder, he became more concerned. It wasn't until it became a miniature hurricane in the hallway that he sprang up into a standing position.

"Phillip J. Fry!" a booming voice yelled. None of the robots in the building seemed to have heard.

"Y-yes?" he squeaked.

The huge rainstorm gradually shrunk, until it took the form of a transparent, older woman wearing an evening gown. She coughed, then spoke. "I'm sorry, I have a terrible cold."

Fry wasn't done panicking. "Who are you?! What are you doing here!?"

"Well, I'm the ghost of Past Life, dear. I'm here to show you your past," she explained. She snapped her fingers, and a clipboard appeared in her hands. She gave it a once-over, and muttered, "Oh my. We'll have to get started right away."

"S-started with what?" Fry asked, a bit more calm.

"I'll show you," she replied, taking his hand. He suddenly became transparent, like her. The apartments seemed to dissolve around them, and was replaced by a living room that Fry knew as his in the 20th century. His mother was standing impatiently by the door. "Phil, get down here, you're gonna be late for your first day of school."

"Hey, I remember this!" Fry commented. "I know what happens next! Why are you-?!"

"I'm coming!" A 5 year old copy of himself ran down the stairs, a knapsack on his back. He looked really sick, even though he had an excited expression on his face.

"Honey, you look way too sick to go to school today," she said.

"What? But, Mom!" he whined. "I'm gonna be the only one staying home!"

"You don't want to spread your germs, go back to bed."

"Oh, fine..." The little boy turned and walked back upstairs.

"No! No!" the older Fry yelled. "Send me to school!"

"She can't hear you," the ghost of Past Life told him, giving her fingernails a once-over.

"I don't care!" Fry shouted, just as the scene once again dissolved. It materialized again to come to the same living room, except instead of his mother standing there, it was his 5-year-old self. His mother walked up to him.

"Phil, there's no reason for you to go to school. You missed the first day, and besides, it's a waste of taxpayer's money," she explained.

"But I'm not sick anymore!" he pleaded.

"Come _on,_" older Fry begged along with him. "You heard him!"

"Geeze, I told you, she can't hear you, you idiot," Ghost of Past Life replied.

"I know! I am an idiot! Please?"

"Sorry, I got direct orders from the Robot Devil himself," she replied, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Anyway..."

The scene dissolved again.

"Oh great. Thanks a lot. You're just taking me through my past and showing me what makes me such a crappy person, right?" Fry asked.

"Right," she responded. "Geeze, this damn scene won't start!"

Just as she said it, the scene materialized in front of them. A teenage version of himself and his brother Yancy where playing basketball. "I remember this, too! Wow, I suck at basketball..."

Yancy took a shot, and got it in, even though younger Phillip had a clear path to block it. "You moron! It was right in front of you!"

"I told you, they can't hear you! Shut up and watch them!" The ghost of Past Life ordered.

"Woah," teenage Fry sighed, having gone to get the ball. "A seven leaf clover!"

"I'm dying of old age!" Yancy called over to him.

"Wait, it's _this _basketball game?" Fry asked. "This isn't such a bad memory."

"Oh, trust me, they get worse." Fry gave her a mean glare. "What?"

"Game over! Phil wins!" the young Fry cheered. "Yancy's fans are stunned! There will be no celebration at the YancyDome!"

"Lucky..." Yancy muttered.

"So, what next?" Fry asked as the scene dissolved again.

"Stop asking questions and shut up."

**Well, how was that? Didja like it in the slightest? I think it was long enough. Well, yeah. G'bye.**

**AzoNintendo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here we go again. Thanks for the nice reviews, you two people. :D Enjoy, perhaps. I still feel this isn't as good as my other stories... It feels suckish, by my standards. Then again, my first Mario story wasn't too good either. I'm not even gonna put the link. Ugh... Anyway, read. Review. Y'know the drill.**

Another scene materialized, this time more familiar than the rest. It wasn't just any point in his past. It was _the _point in his past.

"Woah, we're at the Cryogenic Lab!" Fry exclaimed as a copy of himself walked in the room.

"Thanks, Eagle Eye," Ghost of Past Life muttered.

"Hello? Pizza Delivery for, um..." Fry number 2 glanced at a piece of paper. "I. C. Wiener? Aw, crud. I always thought that by this point in my life, _I'd _be the one making the crank calls!"

"You would think that," the current Fry replied himself. "Why am I here? I already know what happens."

"Watch!" she ordered.

"Wait, is there any possible way to change the past while I'm here?" Fry asked.

"Well, you could, but it'd cause a major paradox," she replied. "So, NO."

"I don't care! I've caused paradoxes before, they don't do anything major," Fry argued. "All I want to do is make it so I stay in the past."

"How will that make anything better?" the ghost asked sarcastically. "You may have still been a total loser in the year 3000, but you where an even bigger loser in the year 2000."

"Yeah I guess you're right- Hey, what did you call me?!" Fry asked, just as the scene dissolved again.

"Too late! Haha!"

--

"I... Don't remember this at all," Fry commented once the scene appeared again.

It was beautifully decorated church, the robot priest standing at the end of the hall. Lots of people where sitting in the seats, waiting for something. Something important.

"Crazy what you can find when you dig around in someone's subconscious." The ghost went back to filing her non-existant fingernails.

"Wait! Is this-?!" Fry stuttered. "How did you find this!? It's not a memory if you can't remember it!"

"No, but I just wanted to make you miserable."

Another copy of himself walked down the isle, stopping in front of the preacher.

"It is," Fry whispered.

Leela, wearing a beautiful wedding gown, walked down the isle arm in arm with the Proffesser. Arriving at the end, she let the Professer sit down, joining Fry at the alter.

"Toranga Leela, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, 'till death do you part?" Preacherbot asked.

"I do," she said sincerely.

"And do you, Phillip J. Fry, copy and paste her response?"

"I do."

Just as the preacher was saying, "Man and wife," the whole of the chapel looked around in shock and amazement. Fry number 2 smiled and kissed Leela. Leela pushed away from him and stuffed her bouquet of daffodils into his mouth. "You tricked me into marrying you, didn't you?!"

"Well, I think you're got a pretty good clue of what happened there," the ghost concluded.

"Mm-hm," Fry muttered. They where thisclose to being married! If only those stupid time skips haden't stopped everything...

"Or I could take you to different points you missed during the skips!" she asked, perking up. "Wanna see Leela seeing the note in the sky? Or the divorce?"

"No thanks," Fry replied.

"Okay, seeya then," the ghost replied, sounding let down.

In the blink of an eye, he was opening his eyes in the hallway of Robot Arms Apartments. "Woah," he whispered. "Was that real?"

"Very real," someone answered.

"Augh! Who said that?!" Fry yelled.

"I did," the voice said again.

"Who're you?"

"The Ghost of the Present."

**Well? How does that grab ya? Okay, goodbye, and remember, Live long and- No, that's somebody elses. How about, make sure you don't wash darks with lights. Yeah, that's right.**

**AzoNintendo-esque**


End file.
